


Pidgeon's Sonic Oneshot Collection

by PidgeonsonSynthesizers



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020), Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Fifteen Minute Fic, I wanted to practice and challenge myself so here's these, Multi, Prompt Fic, These are little practice fics, god bless the pocket hog server, most of them are going to be from discord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PidgeonsonSynthesizers/pseuds/PidgeonsonSynthesizers
Summary: A variety of fics of all sorts relating to different Sonic universes. Some are 15-minute writing challenges, others are a bit longer.
Relationships: Blaze the Cat/Sonic the Hedgehog, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Shadow the Hedgehog & Sonic the Hedgehog
Comments: 36
Kudos: 105





	1. The Eye of The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonic panics when another mobian appears in his home and Maddie helps him get through it.

There’s another mobian in the house.

_ There is another mobian in the house. _

The exchange between the mobian fox that just broke into their home and Maddie and Tom blurs into nothing and everything all at once, ears burning with sound and with anger and yet mind uncomprehending of whatever they are saying past the few words that he can hone in on.

_ Power. Power. His power. _

That is all they want and that’s all they’ve ever wanted, they want to use him-

There’s no reason for another mobian to even be here other than for him. They’re coming for him and there’s nothing he can do about it and it’s all so, so  _ wrong. _

The fox takes another step forward and he can feel Tom and Maddie- he can feel his parents- shift as they grow tenser, clearly not happy with the fox walking towards him and  _ with good reason, too. _

He can’t feel his fingers and all he can feel is the static electricity that grows and shifts and lashes out within his cells, he feels the anger and the pain and everything he pushed away from himself in order to  _ live  _ without drowning in his sorrows come crashing down on him like a tropical storm on an unsuspecting shack in the middle of the Atlantic.

He only just now got a family and he will not let anybody take that away from him.

_ He only just now got a family and he will not let anybody take that away from him again. _

He is lightning in a bottle and the bottle, his body, grows hotter and hotter and he feels like he’s about to explode. Everything is ringing and he hears Tom cry out in shock and the fox is backing away like he’s a live grenade and it’s all still so  _ wrong _ .

He can’t breathe. He sees blue, blue arcing around him and nothing else and all that’s left of his lungs is the electrifying sensation of  _ wrong- _

“Sonic!”

Sonic’s breath hitches in his throat as his lungs continue to burn and the feeling begins to grow-

“Hey, hey, bud listen to me.”

The calming voice cuts through the nothing and the blue like a small bit of sunshine in the middle of a hurricane and he latches onto it as much as he can while it continues in its soothing tone, breath still hitching and tears he didn’t sense before staining his muzzle.

“Breathe with me okay? Breathe.”

Sonic’s unfocused eyes finally find purchase on dark eyes and a soft smile and he stares, barely comprehending at Maddie- at his  _ mom’s-  _ face.

“We are going to do a little breathing exercise, okay?” Maddie says in a soft voice, steady, something to cling to in order to find purchase in the tempest around him.

He nods slightly, barely moving his head and eyes unmoving. Maddie begins to count, and Sonic breathes in time with her like the first time she helped him when he panicked after he accidentally broke a bowl on the floor of the kitchen.

In.

And out.

In.

And out.

The thunder and the lightning begin to subside and as the clouds clear from his throat and he clings to his mother, the last thing he notes before closing his eyes and nuzzling into her sweater is that Tom is hovering above them, hesitant to touch him before gently petting his ear the way he always likes it even if he’ll never admit it.

Only after he is wrapped in his parent’s arms does he realize the fox had mysteriously vanished.


	2. Early Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Sonaze fluff.

The battle that occurred last night was, in boring terms, exhausting.

Sonic couldn’t tell you that phrase in not boring terms simply because well. It was exhausting, and that was that.

He had gone to sleep with bruises and scrapes, and while Blaze did her best wrapping injuries after the conflict he certainly could feel the aftermath, and he had passed out as hard as a rock.

Sonic wakes up much earlier than he had expected through the sensation of multiple sharp somethings pricking his side in a rhythmic motion, and the only reason he doesn’t jump at a possible threat right next to him is that this has happened before, more times than he would like to admit.

Sonic blinks slowly and turns his head to look at the very warm and very much clingy Blaze currently attached to his side and flinches slightly, giving a cursory glance to where her paws are currently making contented biscuits in his side while she sleeps. A gentle purr murmurs through the room while the barest hint of sunlight streams through windows with luxury patterned curtains that Blaze had picked because she fell in love with the colors, and Sonic just couldn’t say no.

Sonic had endured the claws before and desperately wishes he doesn’t have to wake up his partner, but she just so happens to have picked a spot on his ribs with a particularly nasty bruise, and he’s not sure how much pain he can endure in the name of not waking his girlfriend up from her restful slumber. 

Gently patting Blaze’s hand, he attempts to put a barrier between those claws and his side before whispering and caressing Blaze’s face in a motion to get her attention while trying not to give her a rude awakening, the purring coming to an abrupt halt with a small mrrp noise that melts his heart every time he hears it.

Blaze’s eyes squint and then open slowly to gaze into Sonic’s, blurry and unfocused in a drowsy, half-asleep state. She yawns and stares in question, wondering what caused Sonic to wake her up at this hour when they both decided that they’d be sleeping in as late as possible to recuperate. 

Sonic’s eyes soften in sympathy as he links his fingers between Blaze’s, leaning in to nuzzle her face and earning him a surprised “Mmmrh?” in response. Blaze looks at him and pushes herself off of the bed slightly, hair messy and lopsided from the ponytail she forgot to remove the night before and eyes crusted with sleep.

“What is it?” she questions in a drowsy, low tone, still clearly not awake.

Sonic looks at her and sighs before settling back down, beckoning her to lie back down with him.

“It’s nothing,” he says, smiling softly.

“Are you sure?” Blaze questions.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too.”

They both drifted back off to sleep in a messy pile of limbs and blankets, only waking up when the sun shined so brightly through their blinds that they could sleep no longer.


	3. Lycantherapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow meets the Werehog during the events of Unleashed.

Ever since the catastrophic earthquakes hit the entirety of the world, Shadow has been run ragged by GUN.

You would think an organization that was (supposedly) based on the safety of the nations across the world would be well, more organized. It cannot necessarily be held against them that the organization would be swarmed with work, however, when the entirety of the world broke into pieces held together by some unidentifiable source, and when more catastrophic chaos broke out directly on the planet in a magnitude that hadn’t been seen since, well, Chaos.

The monsters of unknown origin appeared that very night when they were beginning an investigation into the earthquakes as if to add even more salt to the wounds of what was left of any reliable agent’s sanity.

That is why Shadow finds himself where he is today. Wandering around the darkened, empty streets of Spagonia, ears perked for any sort of suspicious activity.

Among the roses winding through trellises and the peaked roofs of old architecture, he waits patiently for any sort of sign of the monsters he has been fighting off and keeping out of civilians’ homes for the past couple of weeks, the lack of sleep and the stillness of the town only fuel his resolve to stay vigilant, hands clenching further against the stone beneath them.

The problem is, the area is not only devoid of the people who used to joyfully traverse the streets, but also empty of any of the monsters who caused that change.

It's incredibly suspicious. There have been reports of towns where they were safer after someone or something tore through their midst. Something that could kill the damned creatures, a feat that GUN had still yet to truly accomplish despite their efforts.

The silence is still there, only the buzzing of incandescent streetlights and the rustling of leaves in the wind answering Shadow’s silent quandary. 

More time passes. The moon moves slowly across the splattering of stars in the sky, and only after Shadow has practically frozen and become one with the building beneath him like some sort of hedgehog-shaped gargoyle does he finally pick up on something interesting.

It starts off low and then builds in intensity, a vicious, victorious howl echoes throughout the labyrinth of streets and rings in Shadow’s ears with the enthusiasm of an animal on the hunt who had found its first kill. Shadow doesn’t even let the sound finish before he’s off, speeding across rooftops in a way that makes it look almost as if he’s flying, the only sound accompanying his movements the gentle thrum of his rocket shoes as he twists and turns and weaves to get to the source as quickly as he can before it gets away.

He comes to a halt in a split second, dust from the terraces and tiles of roofs blowing from him in all directions, eyes narrowed and muscles taut in order to take in the scene and act as quickly as possible.

And oh, what a scene it is. Or, if anything is to be concluded from the black smog that dissipates off into the distance and the fading of the very creatures he has been searching for, what a scene it must have been.

There are only two creatures left, one the same as all of the small fry Shadow had seen terrorizing locals and the other completely unlike any he’d ever seen. It’s back is extremely tense, the strength of the beast clearly visible underneath what appears to be a mountain of shaggy, navy blue fur, curved quills not unlike those found on Shadow’s own back arching in the air as it breathes, making a harrowing silhouette in the nearly full moonlight as the beast growls lowly, felling the smaller creature with a vicious swipe as it snarls. As the body of the smaller creature decomposes into a flurry of smog, something left behind by the other makes its way into the creature’s body with a flash. It rears its head up and raises its massive taloned hands, throwing its head back with the same howl Shadow had heard prior that shows off a maw full of fangs. 

It seems, Shadow thinks as he prepares himself for whatever he may do next, that he’s lucky enough to find just what he’s been looking for. Answers.

Shadow decides to take a more careful and non-aggressive approach, knowing that there are too many unknown variables to outright attack the massive creature in front of him. He takes a cautious step forward, deliberately making noise as he does so to gain the attention of the thing. It’s large, curved ears swivel back and flick in response to the noise, the hulking form turning around to face him, a curved snout peeking over a broad shoulder to look at him with a glowing green eye.

As he locks gazes with the thing, he can’t help but feel as if he’s seen those eyes somewhere before. It’s a color he’s all too familiar with, and when the beast’s eyes widen and it rises back onto two legs to tower over Shadow, ears perked and expression looking oddly surprised, Shadow knows there is something strange going on here other than unexplained earthquakes and ethereal beings. 

The beast lumbers towards him calmly and Shadow lets it, calculating eyes narrowed as he slightly tenses to make sure it doesn’t come too close. Shadow lets out a contemplative “hmph.” as they stare each other down, still trying to place why those green eyes look so familiar as his eyes trail across the beast’s fanged muzzle and fluffy body, gaze landing on shoes and socks that look incredibly familiar, yet also very different.

The beast stops at what Shadow satisfactorily considers a safe enough distance as they continue their strange staring match, Shadow slowly opening his mouth in order to say something before the beast- who, apparently is not one of those mindless creatures, but is sentient- interrupts him with his own query.

“Shadow?” It calls out, head tilting in a way he’s seen many times before with a voice that’s recognizable even underneath the rasp of the deeper, growling undertones.

Shadow knows exactly where he’s seen those eyes before, and he’s not sure if he’s pleased with this turn of events. His eyes widen in realization as he takes in the beast’s- as he takes in Sonic’s- form and has to take a moment for his brain to process the fact that his rival very much does not look like himself, but more like some strange prehistoric beast that came from the Ice Age. 

The silence that had dominated the city before returns tenfold in an awkward moment of “where do we even go from here-” on both sides, Shadow, finally after a brief moment of processing, looks at Sonic with a pointed glare to mask his shock and concern.

“Of course you are in the middle of this mess. I should have guessed.” Is what comes out of Shadow’s mouth in response instead of the multitudes of “whats,” “are you okays,” and “what even happeneds,” that all clamor against his skull desperate for release but not acknowledged by their brain’s owner. 

“Oh, haha. Not even a greeting, faker?” Sonic snarks at him, the new, lower tone of his voice giving a more threatening edge to the words than his normal, playful cadence. The sardonic grin on his face is, admittedly, a bit intimidating to look at when it’s full of sharp teeth that make it appear more like a wild animal baring its fangs than a friendly grin. Shadow gives it a cursory glance and immediately decides to not acknowledge it. 

“Considering the fact that I didn’t even recognize you until you said my name, no,” Shadow replies in turn, gruff and to the point as usual. He notes, however, that instead of his usual blank stare that Sonic actually flinches slightly in response. Whatever had caused him to look like the unfortunate cross between a wolf and a wooly mammoth seems to be a bit of a sore point, Shadow duly notes.

“So, faker,” Shadow continues unabashedly despite noting Sonic’s discomfort, “mind explaining why you look like a B-rated horror movie monster?”

Sonic gives him a withering stare that only seems to crumble more from embarrassment as a high pitched whine leaves his maw, Shadow’s ears perking up to catch the noise that Sonic begins to blush over before finally partially collecting himself. 

“It’s a… very long story,” Sonic settles on after seemingly going through about 15 facial expressions at once. He may tower over Shadow in this strange form that he still hasn’t explained despite Shadow’s poke at his ego, but Shadow can’t help but think his rival looks more like some pitiful puppy you’d find left on the side of the road than the savage beast he saw upon his first impression.

Shadow decides to give Sonic just a slight bit of reprieve after the admittedly pitiful display, continuing and ignoring the previous response that tends to mean “No, I do not want to explain this,” knowing he’ll find his answers sooner or later but that prying would only lead to both tempers exploding on one another and no work actually getting done around the town.

“Hmph. I suppose if you don’t want to explain yourself, you can make yourself useful and help subdue more of these black creatures that are causing all of these problems.” He continues, offering a very tentative olive branch in order to get to what he got assigned for despite his curiosities and to possibly gain some entertainment on the way.

“What do you think I’ve been doing, Shads?” Sonic responds, all empty bravado and cocky enthusiasm as usual. “I think I’ve probably been doing your job better than you are in the whole monster butt-kicking department,” he adds on, clearly goading Shadow into avoiding the previous topic by distracting him with a taunt. Shadow knows the deflection tactic, but he’ll allow it.

“Is that a challenge, Sonic?” Shadow responds in turn with just a small smirk alighting his face, eyes narrowed, irises reminiscent of burning coals. “I think you’ll find a large helping of dust is your next meal if that’s the case.”

Sonic’s fur bristles in a way that somehow makes his hulking figure seem even bigger in anticipation, sharp teeth on display once more as he huffs in response. He lifts his arms and punches one into the other with a loud crack, and wow, Shadow noticed just how big those hands were but only just now is he truly comprehending just how _massive_ they really are. He could probably fit into one of those fists.

“Bring it on.” Sonic growls, eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Shadow crouches into a racing position to get the best possible boost from his skates, and the last he sees of Sonic is the surprised expression of “oh shit” that seemed to denote that feeling when someone just realized something important that puts a wrench into an event that they can’t stop.

It is only when Shadow has already taken off in a cloud of dust that he realizes his rival is nowhere to be found anymore, and either went in a different direction or simply didn’t keep up. The eerie silence has only returned, and Shadow is left wondering where in the world Sonic even went.

This question is shortly answered when Shadow hears a loud, thumping rhythm behind him and barely has enough time to dodge the mountain of fur barreling headlong towards him on all fours, Sonic skidding off to the side in his own attempt to avoid a collision with a lack of the speed and grace that he’s often known for and careening directly into a nearby light post, which now has a face-shaped dent in the middle of it that makes the light appear to look down upon the two with cruel mirth. 

Shadow takes a moment again. And for once, absolutely cannot hold his amusement at bay.

“I guess I’m the fastest for sure now, faker.” He teases with a low snicker as Sonic shakes his head from the unfortunate impact, groaning and responding with a guttural, brutal sounding growl.

“That implies that you weren’t sure before, Shads,” Sonic groans out with a strange mix of smugness and dismay. “And besides, it wasn’t really a fair match to begin with.”

Shadow blushes when he realizes his slip and stews in his brief anger at his choice of wording before snorting, scrutinizing gaze sizing up Sonic’s form once more. “I’m guessing this form affects your speed, then? In exchange for brute force?”

Sonic nods and rolls his eyes, that miserable tinge of some unidentifiable emotion passing through his irises once more before he sighs. “Yeah. I lose most of my speed in this form. And believe me when I tell you it _sucks_.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it then, wolf boy? Feel sorry for yourself? Howl at the moon?” Shadow sneers in response now that he realizes that the emotion Sonic’s eyes have held the past few moments is, in fact, resignation. S ince when does his rival pity himself instead of just getting up and dealing with the hand life has dealt him?

“Real inspirational, Shads. Do I really need to remind you why I can literally never howl at a full moon again?” Is the biting remark that interrupts Shadow’s beginning of an attempt at a speech to get Sonic out of the hole of self misery.

“ _ Shut up _ , faker, I wasn’t done yet.” Shadow angrily grits back through his teeth, debating on whether trying to finish his thought is even worth it. Sonic is still glaring irately at him with only a hint of the smugness from the previous remark lingering behind as Shadow attempts to collect his thoughts and somehow turn them into words that aren’t insults.

“What I’m _ trying _ to say, Sonic,” he stresses before pausing and considering his next phrase, “isn’t that your situation is _ optimal _ , but that you can power through it even if you have to take a different approach than you normally would.” 

Wow. That actually came out better than Shadow could have expected. Sonic’s eyes widen and lock with his own again in a slightly shocked movement, and his fur lies flat instead of bristling like it was a moment prior, head tilted again in consideration as he absorbs what Shadow had said.

“Huh. That was surprisingly nice. Was that an actual compliment?” Sonic says while clearly picking up on the barely noticeable hint of sympathy in Shadow’s eyes, keeping up the banter so as not to make the situation awkward, but the two of them filing that small thought and show of kindness away in their minds to examine later.

“Mention this and I’ll make sure to compliment your face with a shoe-shaped bruise.” Is Shadow’s retort with a fanged smirk, and Sonic responds in turn with his own as everything settles into a rhythm and dance they’ve been used to for years.

“Duly noted.” Sonic snarks with a wicked grin, before moving onto the next topic without hesitation, as per usual. “So, Shads…” Sonic continues, smile becoming impossibly wider, “You up for a little monster hunting? I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

“Yes,” Shadow replies, “but I’m still faster than you.”

“Oh, shut up, faker. I’m getting mixed signals, here.”

“Furball.”

“Edgelord.”

“I’m not taking this from someone who looks like a blue version of Gossamer.”

“At least I don’t look like I blow-dried my quills the wrong way!”

“ _Excuse me_?”   
  


The banter is interrupted by a gigantic thud and a thunderous, echoing roar behind the duo, and they turn to face one of the largest versions of the creatures that Shadow has ever seen, wielding a club as big as the both of them combined. It screeches in the same unknown tongue nobody has seemed to decipher, the neon markings on its body pulsating with the brute’s anger.

Sonic cracks his knuckles, shakes his body, and looks at Shadow with a nearly feral gleam in his eyes, ears flicking in anticipation. “Ready to have some fun?” he growls out, gigantic muscles tensing almost like a tiger about to leap onto unsuspecting prey.

Shadow breaks out into a grin of his own that he’ll forever deny if anyone asks, and turns to face their new foe. Seems they don’t have to search for monsters to fight- they came right to them.

_ “Absolutely.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why Chip isn't here, it's because I didn't feel like writing him. I do actually like him but he didn't really fit in for this one.


	4. Game Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bad ending.
> 
> Tw for this chapter: blood, injury, implied character death, attempted murder

Sonic had lost track of Robotnik minutes ago. He never thought he would see the deranged scientist again after he had sent him to the mushroom planet- didn’t even think for one moment that it would be possible.

Stupid, stupid,  _ stupid _ \- why doesn’t he ever _ think _ .

He doesn’t know how the crazy man’s mind works, how  _ he _ thinks. Not that he would ever want to know, but it would be incredibly helpful if he could at this particular moment because Sonic is kinda freaking out a little. Or a lot. Freaking out a lot.

Robotnik, new frazzled mustache and all, had found a way to harness the rings. And not just harness them but  _ improve _ them. He only needed one, and then the “Eggmobile” (Sonic still couldn’t believe Eggman stuck so much that even Robotnik started using it) was able to warp wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with only a moment’s time to charge.

Usually, Sonic is good with having only a moment. A moment to humans is a land of possibility for him.

But now he’s blindsided by the shock of the mantra of “ _ this can’t be happening _ ”, his bag of rings in his hand (thankfully, that would’ve been a mess-) and trepidation in his gut as he frantically tries to think of where he might have gone.

Robotnik would try to get to him, probably. Sonic made him so very angry, but he’s not the only one who did. So did his dad.

It is with grim, horrible realization that Sonic thinks to himself-

_ Home. _

Robotnik knows where we live.

_ And I’m not there to protect them. _

Sonic’s eyes widen and he opens the bag of rings in a jerky movement that nearly spills the rings across the mountainous terrain he’s perched upon, and the only thing stopping them from falling into the crags and rocks below him is his quick-paced reflexes. He digs out a ring in record time and thinks  _ “home, home, Green Hills, Wachowski House, Maddie, Tom, Mom, Dad, I love you please be okay when I get there-” _

The portal opens to the attic that he’s called his home for the past year and he rockets into it, jumping with reckless abandon off of the cliff sides to reach it because he threw the ring too far in his panic, he needs to get there and get there now, he needs to make sure his parents are okay-

With a sensation like pins and needles the smell of the air goes from fresh outdoors to him, his room, the smell of the candle that he loves that Maddie gave to him last Christmas and the pinewood of the beams and the detergent of his sheets and-

And burning.

_ And blood. _

_ No no no no please Chaos no I’m begging you- _

He wastes no time, doesn’t even bother to carefully let down the ladder to his room and instead curls up and bursts through the hatch that shatters upon impact, wooden splinters and paint scattering across the floor as he hurdles down the stairs and-

And-

_ Oh, Chaos no- _

The kitchen is riddled with what seems like bullet holes again, but this time there’s something that wasn’t present when Robotnik first made his little visit and set everyone in the family’s life into a strange spiral both good and bad.

Red. Red on the countertops. Red dragging away from them and into the living room. He doesn’t know how it happened and now, now he needs to find them, make sure they’re still alive-

No no no no Sonic, don’t think like that, they have to be alive there’s no way they’d-

Be  _ realistic _ Sonic, they could be-

_ NO no where is Robotnik that’s all that matters find him find Robotnik now- _

Sonic finally shakes himself from temporary shock and hopes that he’s not too late, that the fact that his brain wasn’t as fast as his feet didn’t screw up every good thing he loves and has, dashes to the living room in his haze of fear and finds himself face to face with exactly who he’d been looking for and wishes he doesn’t see here.

Robotnik sits in his Eggmobile that’s compressed slightly in size since the last time Sonic saw it a few minutes ago, grin cutting across his face as his maniacal gaze locks onto Sonic, cackling and cackling and the sound rings in his ears alongside his quickened breaths and-

Everything in the living room is destroyed. Sofas exploded into fluff, walls scorched, parts of walls reduced to rubble, there’s a broken picture frame of Sonic and Maddie and Tom from that one time they went to the tourist trap and found a massive wood sculpture the same exact shade as Sonic and there’s a hand-

His mother’s hand. It’s limp on the ground, unmoving.

Sonic’s eyes, almost not of his own volition, trail up the arm and land on his mother’s face and-

Slack. Her eyes are closed. He can’t tell if she’s breathing, can’t tell if she’s alive- There are wounds that wrap around her torso and cause that horrible, horrible smell of blood and burns trail across one side of her face, bruises decorating everything else.

He can’t tell if she’s breathing, and in the corner of his vision he sees the boots that he recognizes as Tom’s connected to a pair of legs clothed in the same police form he wears every day but one of them is bent backward and nothing else is visible underneath the rubble that used to be the side of their home covering him, nothing is moving and-

_ He can’t tell if either of them are breathing. _

Sonic stares, transfixed at his parents’ bodies sprawled on the floor, his chest constricts, and he doesn’t comprehend that he already started crying until he feels some of it drip onto his chest. 

_ This can’t be happening. This can’t be- _

“But it is, my dear nemesis!” Robotnik chimes in and wow, Sonic nearly forgot the source of all the destruction and the wrong and  _ oh Chaos he can’t tell if they’re breathing and if they are they might not be for much longer if he can’t get help _ and he didn’t even realize he had said that out loud.

Robotnik looks proud of himself. Perched upon his throne of ego and touting about the fact that he might have just orphaned a child like it’s a medal to be worn with pride.

Sonic is  _ sick of it. _

Like the calm before the storm, something begins to spill over into his very bones and makes him feel both light and heavy. A nearly foreign heat begins to build within his lungs and stomach and his hands clench into fists. Amidst the panic and fear and numbness that Sonic’s all too familiar with, he feels something awaken in the back of his skull and it expands like it might explode, a sensation that causes his fur to bristle and his lips to part and bare his teeth at the one who did this.

For the first time in perhaps his entire life, Sonic feels pure, unbridled, unadulterated  _ rage _ .

He’s hyperventilating, power coursing through his veins as his now glowing, cyan eyes lock with brown above him, face twisted in a snarl uncharacteristic of him as everything compounds and grows in intensity, and  _ oh how much he hates Robotnik and what he’s just done- _

The power flickers out with a whine and when Robotnik takes his eyes off of Sonic for just one split second, he turns back to where he last saw him and comes face to face with eyes only composed of a blank, cyan void, electricity flashing around Sonic’s body in the dark and illuminating Robotnik like a spotlight. He stares through the man as if judging his very soul before something creaks and snaps and suddenly Sonic’s hands are wrapping around the man’s throat and pushing and squeezing, he feels a growl bubble up from his gut and all that’s there is  _ anger, anger, anger you did this- _

Distantly, Sonic can hear his screams but the part of him that cares is buried, everything feeling like a dream where his consciousness is submerged and only just below the surface of reality, his body feels almost like its acting of its own accord and he smells the same burning that he first did when he entered the house, something is bubbling and charring underneath his hands and are his gloves even still there? What is he burning,  _ what is he doing what happened- _

The glow finally fades from his eyes and his pupils and irises return and-

Oh, Chaos-

_ Oh, Chaos, what did he just do? _

Robotnik’s face seems almost frozen in shock, jaw slack in a scream that never ended of his own volition, body limp underneath Sonic and-

_ And- _

Sonic sees black, charred flesh underneath what’s left of his gloves, his hands still sparking from the sheer power he had pushed into Robotnik’s throat.

His own hands are now uncovered, blue and peach fur glistening with blood from where his claws pushed through cauterized skin after he- he  _ electrocuted _ him, the man’s limbs still convulsing from the aftershocks and pieces seemingly held at strange angles, just  _ wrong _ . He can see lines of angry red, patterns reminiscent of lighting tracing every visible inch of Robotnik’s skin and once more glances into his eyes, rolled up into the back of his head to where only the whites show and he  _ recoils _ and ricochets onto the floor.

Before he can truly comprehend it he’s sobbing, crying out because  _ what did he think he was doing? _

_ What did I do? _

“MOM!” He screams, the sound echoing through the house, empty as it never had been before. “DAD!” He yells, hoping against all hope that there’s an answer but all he hears in reply is the sirens of emergency vehicles that _ might just be too late _ .

Sonic sobs to a room of destruction and bodies that he feels is entirely his fault and only continues to do so as he’s picked up by a pair of arms that he so badly wishes were his father’s.

The sirens ring in his ears like a death sentence and  _ oh Chaos what if he hurts someone else, what if he’ll never see his family again- _

Red and blue light up the front yard and he sees them carrying the people inside on stretchers as arms he doesn’t recognize in his haze hold him steady, and he wonders how everything has gone wrong so, so quickly.

Darkness clouds the edges of his vision while he looks at his ungloved hands that he didn’t realize were clawing into the arms holding him as he sobs, and Sonic’s last thought before he passes out from the stress and fear and pain and hyperventilation that hasn’t stopped is-

_ What have I done? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh. Sorry.
> 
> Also if you're wondering where the Eggmobile went, it's still hovering in the living room with Robotnik convulsing inside.
> 
> The person carrying Sonic and taking the pain from his little claws like a champ is actually Wade.
> 
> It's up to you to decide whether Tom and Maddie are actually dead or not, I suppose.


	5. Strobe Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hedgeboys watch their disaster dads screw with leftover 4th of July fireworks. What's the worst that could happen?

“It’s the middle of summer. July 6th. And Silver and I are now witness to a terrible accident. And what is that, Silver?”

“Our dads with fireworks.”

“That’s right. Our dads with fireworks.”   
  


Sonic and Silver glance at each other and snort just a bit, both sitting on one of the branches of a massive pine tree, Sonic swinging his legs back and forth so quickly that it shakes the tree and Silver with his knees tucked in, crouched in a perch akin to some strange, spiky bird. The vantage point high above Wade’s yard gives them both a front-row seat to whatever new, stupid idea that their dads decide to come up with- after a few beers of course. They each have a bomb pop in their hands leftover from the 4th of July celebration along with the fireworks, Sonic’s nearly down to its last bite and Silver’s only about halfway gone. 

“Silver, that popsicle is going to melt by the time you even get to the stick.” Sonic points out, taking a massive bite out of his own bomb pop before waving it in Silver’s direction with a dismissive flick. A dot of blue from said bomb pop lands right in the middle of Silver’s forehead, and he shudders just thinking about how cold that would feel on his teeth and continues to enjoy his popsicle  _ at his own pace thank you very much. _

“I’m not biting it if that’s what you’re telling me to do.” Silver replies before licking his bomb pop and thinking that maybe he should consider eating it faster now that his gloves will undoubtedly need to be washed after this. Silver’s response is followed by an excited shout from Wade underneath them. Both kids look down to see Tom place a strobe light firework directly in the dry, dying grass, Wade right behind him with the lighter at the ready with determined, excited glee.

Silver and Sonic look at each other with a knowing glance, Silver’s eyes glinting with nervousness and Sonic’s shining with pure mischief. Surely, nothing could go wrong with _ lighting a firework in the middle of the lawn during a drought,  _ right?

Why would they light a  _ strobe light _ in the middle of the day when you can barely see it and it hardly makes any sound, anyway???

The two of them watch as the firework lights up, both Tom and Wade’s faces lighting up along with it while they stand and stare at it from the driveway. Neither decides they want to look at it directly, out of the wish to keep their retinas intact. Even in the blistering, midday sun, the firework is still quite visible, each flash punctuated with a quiet pop as they grow progressively faster.

Much to the men's surprise, but not the kids, the firework is then punctuated by a small flame that already begins to rapidly grow with the current goldmine of fresh fuel it sits in. It’s a good thing Wade doesn’t seem to care much about maintaining his yard.

“Y'know, Sonic, I was wondering what sort of thing Dad and Tom would come up with after the watermelon.” Silver starts to say, observing the panicked officers beneath them. Apparently, when off-duty, the law of not sparking fires in a drought isn’t quite as important to uphold.

“Yeah?” Sonic replies, ears perked to catch Silver’s next response.

“I would not have guessed an actual fire?” Silver states with a waver in his voice, betraying his nerves despite the calm tone.

Sonic looks down at the now much larger fire from their perch in the tree with a calmness that does not suit the situation at all. He’s seen worse. They both have. But still, neither of them will be coming down from that tree anytime soon, even with the now useless popsicle sticks held in their hands.

“Eh, was bound to happen eventually. Don’t fireworks have fire in the name, after all?” Sonic eventually settles on, the screaming Wade having run to the side of the house to try and find the hose which he evidently does not use on his yard. 

While the chaos continues and the fire grows bigger than it really should be because  _ how long does it take to find a hose attached to the house you’ve lived in for years _ , the front door opens and reveals one  _ very _ tired looking black hedgehog, headphones hanging from his quills and expression looking as if he was interrupted either from a very good nap, or a long session of Netflix murder documentaries. Knowing him, it could be either or none of the above since slightly pissed off seemed to be the default expression of his face.

“Hey, Shadow!” Sonic says cheerfully, shaking the tree branch that he and Silver have used as a lifeboat above the fire and causing Silver to squawk in surprise when he nearly tumbles off.

Shadow gives them a slow, barely comprehending blink, denoting that yes, he was probably sleeping and was awoken by the screaming of two grown men. He looks at the fire, and then looks at the two in the tree almost accusingly. “What happened?” he growls out, eyes squinting in the blazing sun.

“Dad decided to light a strobe firework on the grass and we’re stuck here,” Silver explains, clearly unable to decide if he’s amused, slightly terrified, or both. Whether those emotions apply to the fire or to the hedgehog next to him who won’t stop shaking their perch keeping them  _ away  _ from the said fire is unknown.

“Mmph,” Shadow says in response, the noncommittal grunt speaking volumes. His eyes flick between the two and the fire, and then the two dads who started the entire mess decide to finally come back and make their presence known with a triumphant, “I FOUND IT!” echoing from Wade, Tom following close behind in their mad dash across the driveway.

Shadow pinches the bridge of his muzzle, takes a deep breath, and then immediately walks back into the house.

With the click of a door and the _ pssshhh _ of a water hose slowly putting out the fire, a new national wildfire crisis is promptly stopped in its tracks and left unmentioned by everyone at the next big family dinner.

The boys know, though. And Sonic, being the little shit that he is, has used the incident plenty of times as blackmail for Tom to get him more food than he really needs.

  
Even if the men who started the fire don’t remember it years later, due to there just being  _ so many _ incidents with fireworks throughout their lives, the hedgehogs absolutely never forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where Tails is in this one-shot, he's with Maddie at her job! He wanted to learn more about the anatomy of Earth animals since he's a huge nerd.


	6. A Shadow in The Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I never thought I would write something like this?
> 
> I've been hyped up about Persona 4 Golden being ported to PC, so I ended up writing this little P4 crossover with Sonic.
> 
> I don't think you need to have knowledge of P4 lore to enjoy it, though. You'll understand it a bit more if you do, but on its own, you can just take it as a strange suspense one-shot.
> 
> Tw: creepy stuff, implied death, just overall uncomfy lmao

The first thing Sonic is able to comprehend when his eyes finally peel themselves apart from his impromptu, nonconsensual nap is the color yellow.

Everywhere. Yellow is everywhere he can see, a pale, sickly yellow with a tint of green. Which isn't saying much, since about now all he can see is fog that extends to forever, vague shadows of structures barely visible past the blanket of foul, cloying smog. They’re so indistinguishable that he’s half-convinced that his brain is just trying to make up something to see within the vast emptiness that surrounds him.

His first instinct is that it’s a dream. That the otherworldly fog and the shifting shadows and the feeling of being watched are all just remnants of some battle creating another strange nightmare to ignore as soon as he wakes up, tangled in his soft sky blue sheets.

The problem is, everything just feels too real. He can feel the aching where someone had ambushed him and pushed him into  _ something _ and sent him  _ somewhere _ , he couldn’t tell much more than the fact that someone with strength and gloved hands managed to either drug him or give him a good knock to the neck, and everything went black. All things considered, it really could have been anyone.

The air smells faintly of mildew, rot, and metal. He can feel the dampness of the fog on his fur like a disgusting coat, he can feel the roughness of the-  _ floor? Stone?- _ Beneath him in how it catches on the fabric of his gloves. Something almost seems to be trembling, a barely noticeable tremor from who knows where runs through the surface beneath him.

His dreams are never this detailed, and he just woke up. There’s no way this is a dream.

Ignoring his protesting limbs and newfound nausea, Sonic finally decides to push himself off of what he assumes is cement beneath him. His legs shake just a bit, and he really hopes that whatever left him in this state wears off at least a bit in case it somehow affects his running. Poking around in a mysterious and ominous place without the ability to run as he normally would does not sound particularly fun or like a good idea at all.

But, neither does sitting in one place, so he takes silent, drudging steps through a land he’s never known, looking for any kind of landmark or something other than fog. He picks a shadow in the corner of his vision and just trudges forward. 

The tremor beneath his feet grows more noticeable, and the shadows almost seem to grow closer of their own volition. Soon the tremble finally grows into a rumble, the rumble into a roar, and Sonic has to dodge a wall that rises from nothing in a desperate attempt to not get cleaved by architecture that is somehow _ building itself around him. _

Steel beams shoot up and arch above him like fresh growth of weeds in a hellish garden, followed by planks in a framework that just materializes, walls becoming whole almost like they’re a mold growing across the newly made structure, details making themselves noticeable in a barely comprehensible wave. 

Sonic doesn’t even move other than to dodge the shifting landscape, wide eyes darting around his surroundings and taking the bizarre scene as a gabled, arching roof closes him into the newly made room, enclosing him in darkness before old-fashioned light bulbs pop and buzz in a wave of light that floods his eyes and leaves him seeing spots.

Once his eyes adjust once more, he finally has a chance to truly comprehend what the building he’s trapped in even is.

Even then, he’s not sure. When Sonic looks around the corner he’s in he notices a bizarre mix of supplies that most certainly were not there before scattered across the vast room. There’s pieces of foam painted to look almost exactly like metal from the sides of Eggman's bases, chunks of stone that look almost like the ruins he’d seen on Angel Island made in the same way. There are faux plants both plastic and silk, paint buckets left unopened, unused, bare wooden beams. A costume rack sits a bit further, and Sonic can’t help but shudder as he looks at the costumes that resemble his friends to the point where it’s uncanny, the costumes looking more like pelts than something alive.

He trudges forward again to see what lies further, feeling exposed and alone in the incandescent light as the tapping of his feet on the wooden floor echo as if he’s in an antechamber. He barely comprehends the rows of seats as he makes his way to what he’s finally concluded is one of the biggest stages he’s ever seen. Something is drawing him to it. He feels like he should go there- his gut pangs and his brain aches for something unknown. 

His brain blanks as he takes his first step onto the stage. The previously pitch-black stage is illuminated with another loud screech and then a pop, Sonic jumping at the sudden break in the silence as a spotlight lands on him. After a short pause of nothing once more, he just keeps walking. Keep going. Keep going forward.

He can hear chains.

Keep going forward.

He’s getting closer to the noise. He hears chains, and crying, a quiet sound he can barely pick up even with his ears perked and his hearing strained. But in the great nothing, it sounds as clear as a siren on a late night.

Keep walking.

He’s passed the curtain that marks the beginning of the stage and the floor is rough again, concrete painted black to denote that this is behind the true stage, that this is an area that would normally be hidden from view. 

_ Almost there. _

Almost where?

He pushes through a heavy door labeled Backstage and the crying and the rattling of chains grow instantly louder. This room is covered in more supplies than the last- and it’s bizarre, he can see pieces of towns he has traversed and giant puppets that loom above him in the shadows that he has to do a double-take at before realizing that they’re Chaos and Dark Gaia, forms frozen in their vicious movement. He takes in the scene and nearly jumps when he notices the one-to-one, near-perfect replica of Neo Metal Sonic that slumps next to him right at the entrance, eyes dark and lifeless as everything else in the strange place.

His eyes follow a trail of multicolored paint splotches to the center of the room where there’s a circle splattered messily on the floor. A pattern underneath what lies in the center makes a seven-pointed star, each one ending in a large blotch of paint in the colors of the chaos emeralds.

In the middle of the circle lies a shaking, sobbing form. It’s hard to make out exactly who it may be, the lack of light casting everything in a gloomy shadow. But what is undeniable is that they’re locked to the ground with heavy, clanking chains, each connected to the star underneath and wrapping around its body, cutting through fur and quills and coiling around the emaciated body like snakes around unlucky prey.

Suddenly, Sonic’s mysterious lethargy vanishes.

With quick movements, he rushes to the side of whoever was unfortunate enough to get trapped in this nightmarish place. “Hey,” he quietly begins before darting to the front of the figure, inwardly both grateful for finding someone in this place and berating himself for feeling grateful that someone else is stuck in this hellhole. “I’ll get you out of here, okay? I can get you free in no-”

Sonic cuts himself off as the figure finally raises its head, and he realizes just why it seems so familiar.

It’s wrong. This has to be a dream.  _ But it isn’t. _

When the figure finally lifts its head, Sonic finds himself face to face with  _ himself. _

The copy of him smirks, the highly noticeable bags under its eyes squinting upwards with the motion. The yellow fog decides to gradually make its appearance once more, beginning to slowly flood into the room from the doorways, creeping around them like some invisible predator is watching.

“What, are you worried about me?” It asks, sobs cut short but voice hoarse from the aftermath of crying.

It would be a perfect copy- a one to one replication of him down to his signature smirk and voice. Except for one thing.

It's eyes are yellow. 

Not the kind, golden and warm hues of yellow he’d seen in the eyes of his friends, not the powerful, vindictive yellow he saw in the stares of the Zeti. No, this yellow is sickly, piercing, tinged with wrongness and reminiscent of hazardous acid, the whites almost appearing jaundiced from the glow held within. The copy of him stares almost as if it’s mentally picking him apart piece by piece, eyelids red with exhaustion and unshed tears.

The gaze sees through him. Yellow eyes glowing through yellow fog. Every insecurity, every loss, every bout of anger he had calmly locked away in the name of being a hero is thrust forward to the surface by an apparition of his own self.

Sonic can’t  _ move. _

The copy continues to speak.

“You play the hero in their script.  _ Every. Time. _ Aren’t you so _ tired? _ Their needs, their expectations, their wants shackle you to responsibility that was never yours. You play along, you sing and you dance and you save them but what do they do for you?” It whispers, words just as poisonous and vile as it’s eyes even if there’s truth inside of them.

He wants to run. He wants to run but his body won’t listen. He can’t move, can’t even flinch as the copy grabs his hands and brings him closer. It’s hands are frigid, cold as if they belong to a corpse. He wants to push back, break free, run away but something is holding him there and it isn’t just those hands.

“We are empty, hero,” it continues, breath ghosting over Sonic’s nose as it leans in closer. “You think you know what you want, you rush and you run towards glory and fame but you are only running away from the realization that if you don’t stop running, the truth will finally take hold of you and  _ take you down with it. _ ”

The copy of him is still uncomfortably close, grip incredibly strong as he claws into Sonic’s arms with tattered gloves. Those yellow eyes continue to observe, waiting, knowing truths that Sonic would rather leave locked away. Truths that another being shouldn’t know, much less taunt him with.

“What truth?” Sonic asks, the only thing he’s been able to say, the only action he could take and it’s just two little words that form a question that he already knows the answer to.

“That your bravado is a farce. That you now are responsible for more than you ever could have imagined.”

The copy’s grip finally slackens as false tears begin to build up in it’s eyes once more.

“Their lives.”

It’s tears are now flowing dramatically down it’s face as it chokes and Sonic finally has the instinct to back away, to never feel the touch of that thing ever again. He begins to back up slower than he normally would, not wanting to get the attention of the thing before he can run for it.

“Their  _ deaths. _ ” The copy finally says with a hallowing echo underneath, head swiveling to lock eyes with Sonic, who snuck his way to the door. It rises from its previous hunched position and begins to take deliberate steps towards him like a predator stalking its prey. Sonic rushes and tries to open the door, but the doorknob only jiggles uselessly as he wrenches the thing and can’t get out even though  _ he was sure he didn’t lock it- _

A force slams him against the heavy door with a vicious rattle and he can feel chains encircling him now, those clammy, horrible hands on his shoulders as those glowing eyes force him to look at it, a growl echoing in the air that sounds unclear, almost like it’s pushed through TV static at midnight.

“Look at me!” It hisses as a chain lifts his chin up almost like it was a part of the doppelganger, cold, rusted metal tightening around his neck. “Listen to me!  _ Pay attention to me!! _ ” It shrieks and it rings in Sonic’s ears, labored breaths heaving through it’s emaciated ribs.

“The fact is that in the end, you only matter because you are  _ powerful. _ ” It continues it’s demented speech with fervor, letting the chains grow slack. Sonic slumps to the floor and doesn’t dare move again while those eyes stare like searchlights observing his every mistake. You only matter because you play the part.”

“What do you mean?” Sonic questions, the ugly, sickening feeling in hit gut only growing larger.

“You are a slave to your own morals. And you just want to break down and end, but they only keep relying on you more and more. You are the theme park attraction of the century, the old machine that just won’t be left to rest.” 

“Old?” Sonic asks, attempting to gain a bit of bravado in the midst of fear by poking at the phrase, a small, shaking smirk returning. “I’m only 16.”

“Does that matter, after all we’ve been through? We are still so, so tired.”

We?  _ We _ are tired? 

It’s with horrid actualization that Sonic begins to think that maybe that spot in his gut is a hole and something is missing. He doesn’t want to think about how something drove him to find the thing in front of him. He doesn’t want to think at all _._

“No. I’m not tired. I never tire,” Sonic retorts, trying to hold onto the lie he tells himself each time he wakes up from his nightmares. “ I keep going because there’s always something-”

“Something that we are tied to, that we must take responsibility for,” the doppelganger interrupts, acidic gaze flat and entirely unconvinced.

“Shut up!” Sonic shouts because he has nothing left to defend himself but anger, not denial, nothing to protect himself from the thing attempting to wrench his emotional guts out.   
  


“Is it finally getting through your skull?” It asks, “We are in  _ chains _ .”

The chains around them rattle as if on command in order to drive the point home, one reaching forward and sliding across Sonic’s face like a demented parody of a gentle caress.

There’s no way. The thing in front of him can’t be anything but another villain’s ploy to get in his head. Yes, yes that must be it- he tries to rationalize before simply questioning-

“Why do we keep saying we?” 

The creature pauses, gaze flickering for a moment like uncertain candlelight. It still stares, and has it even blinked once the entire time they’ve been here?

“Because I am you-” it responds, the exact answer Sonic did not want to hear because  _ there’s no way that’s possible. _

“No-” he chokes out, defiance beginning to make his body tremble as he barely holds it back.

“Right, right. Say it, then.” The thing goads him on, a lazy smile beginning to curl upon its face, knowing for a fact that if it pushes the right buttons, it will get _ exactly _ what it wants.

“ _ You’re not me! _ ” Sonic yells out, and with a drop in his stomach and the air growing colder around them, he comprehends the smirk on his duplicate’s face and realizes that he should  _ never _ have said those words.

“ _ Excellent. _ ” The thing purrs out in satisfaction as it’s eyes flash and the corners of it’s mouth are stretched so far in a demented, self-satisfied grin that it breaks all laws of physics. 

The false reality around them  _ shatters,  _ sirens sounding from an unknown source as the copy’s entire figure distorts, elongating and growing to tower over Sonic. It’s joints creak and crack as the flesh and skin is stripped away to show the inner workings of a metal skeleton akin to old animatronics underneath, The chains rising and coiling like a nest of snakes. The thing grows impossibly large alongside Sonic’s fear, higher than the now nonexistent roof was beforehand, mouth sealing shut as it’s face warps into an unmoving, unseeing tragedy mask shaped like his face with a wide grin painted upon it in scarlet, startling red. It thrashes as it laughs, howling like a wild beast as it’s gigantic, clawed hands drag against the concrete floor beneath them with a horrifying screech, sparks flying as metal grinds against pavement.

“I am a shadow,” the thing that was previously wearing his face roars, mocking him with that painted facsimile of a smile. “The  _ true _ self.”

With jilted movements like a marionette being pulled by strings, the mask that rose above him jerks downward to where it nearly touches the top of his quills in a predatory hunch, the stench of rot and metal growing ever stronger. A strangled cry echoes through a loudspeaker in the mask’s mouth that he hadn’t noticed before, the eyes now blank, black, void of anything as if he’s looking at an empty husk of what was once a ride at Twinkle Park.

“And it’s time for our little dance to end with a truly  _ grand _ finale.”

One of the massive hands jerks above him and the last thing Sonic sees before he passes out from being hit with unimaginable force is the blood and rust that stain those crooked, wicked claws.

_ Denial of the truth leads to a terrible fate, doesn’t it? _


	7. Fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt fill for discord. The prompt was "Celebrity." this kinda went off the rails.

1:30 am, the clock reads. And yet, he still can’t sleep.

It’s that time again, Tails thinks as he buries his head into his pillow and tries to hold himself to the bed so he doesn’t begin to drift off into thoughts he doesn’t want.

It’s not working.

They always see Sonic. But what about him? What about what he has done?

It makes him sick when he feels this way. Tails wishes he could carve out the jealousy and leave it behind, but he can’t help but feel like he’s the side character. Like the media wouldn’t care one bit about him if it weren’t for Sonic.

Did they realize? Just all he’s done? Have they realized how much  _ he _ has put on the line to save them? They do, he likes to think. But then again, it’s nothing compared to Sonic. The cycle of thoughts is just that- a cycle that leads to nowhere.

Lingering on the same selfish thoughts.  _ Again. _

Trying to bury them all underneath the covers doesn’t help. Trying to squish his snout as hard as he can into his pillow doesn’t help. He breathes in the scent of softener and decides, finally, to get up and at least get a drink.

The hall is dark as he takes his trudging steps in a trek to the kitchen, his socks making his footsteps silent as he wanders like a lost ghost in his own home. Only when he finally gets to the entrance to the kitchen do his bleary eyes finally register that the light is already on.

Sonic’s in the kitchen at the counter, a mug of some sort of tea steaming as he looks down at it listlessly. Bags trail under his own eyes in a matching set to Tails’ own, and it takes him a moment to register Tails at the doorway, both brothers’ tired, bloodshot eyes making brief contact before Sonic’s sullen stare turns into a smile.

“Hey, bud-” Sonic starts to say with a shaky smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Tails interrupts before he continues, ugly emotions still broiling in his gut.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Tails asks Sonic, his namesakes flicking in an agitated pattern as he raises an eyebrow in questioning.

“Hey, that’s my line,” Sonic responds with a chuckle, tired eyes shining with unchecked mirth.

Sonic loves him so much. And Tails knows this, and he loves him too. So why does that horrible jealousy linger?

It’s 1:36 am, the digital clock on the wall declares, and Tails can’t control it when the tears he’d held back start to trail down his face.

“Tails??” Sonic asks with a slightly panicked tone, quickly setting down his tea to where it sloshes dangerously close to the lip of the mug as Tails tries his best not to hiccup. “What’s wrong, bud?” he continues, eyes widened as he dashes to his brother’s side, taking in his disheveled fur and crumpled expression.

Tails curses internally. He didn’t want to put this on Sonic as well. He doesn’t want to burden his brother with feelings he shouldn’t have.

“Tails. Talk to me.”

Green meets blue, concern etched onto Sonic’s face in a way Tails only sees in private when they are alone in their house to be themselves and not what others expect them to be. His brother looks tired and worried because of him.

“I… I really wish that when they saw you, they’d see me, too.” Tails’ mouth blurts before he can stop himself, stupid, stupid, stupid, why did he say that-

“Tails.” Sonic replies, voice steady, demanding his attention. Tail’s shaking gaze meets his and the tears won’t stop coming. One of Sonic’s hands rests on his shoulder and starts to rub soothing circles in his fur, Tails’ breathing evening out slightly at the contact. 

“When have strangers ever known how great you truly are?” Sonic asks, looking as if all the answers in the world are held in the air between them, waiting to be found.

Tails’ can’t parse it. He stammers before he gets the words out, a mess of phrases tumbling from his mouth. “I, I dunno, Sonic, they think that I-”

“Tails, listen to me,” Sonic interrupts the trainwreck of thoughts. “ Who cares what they think?”

“They don’t see _me_ when we do something!” Tails exclaims, lips shaking as his fur grows heavy with freely flowing tears. “They only see _you!_ I’m the side character, I’m not worth-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there bud.” Sonic gives Tails a look as hard as iron, brows furrowed. “You are worth something. To me, and to all of our friends.”

Tails inhales again. Yeah, that’s exactly it, huh? He’s being stupid. Can take a robot apart in 10 seconds but can’t find one right thing to say to his own brother, just a mess of jumbled thoughts. The words still stick in his throat, choking him as they clamor to get out.

“Well, I guess I’m stupid for thinking otherwise, huh,” Tails grumbles, averting his gaze, ears drooping. Sonic’s own ears droop to match. Wrong words, again. Chaos, Tails is so tired. He wishes he knew what he was supposed to say. Wishes there was a system, a code to interactions. Wishes there was an algorithm to be a  _ good  _ brother.

Sonic wilts a bit before he continues with a fervor he didn’t have previously, resting both hands on Tails’ shoulders. “Tails, you are literally anything but stupid. You are a kid, the smartest I’ll ever know. Even if you don’t want to be. It’s okay to feel-”

“No!  _ It’s not! _ ” Tails bites back in reflex. “After everything you’ve done for me, I have no right to-”

“To what? Tails, don’t discredit yourself. That’s when the bad guy wins. Look at your own accomplishments. Not just mine.”

“Only one kid saved my life more times than I could count,” Sonic stresses, a bittersweet smile blooming across his face before he leans in and hugs Tails as tightly as he can. “ _ All _ I want is to be a brother as good to you as you are to me”

Tails chokes out a sob in surprise and just feels so _ heavy _ , the dam to his emotions still broken from before. He grabs Sonic tightly, buries his face into Sonic’s chest and quivers like the kit that he actually is. One of the very, very few times he’s truly felt his age. Young. Vulnerable. But when he’s with his brother, maybe that’s okay.

“You’re amazing, kid,” Sonic whispers, pulling back to wipe tears from Tails’ eyes with a gloved hand. “You know that, right?”

Tails chuckles through the snot and tears and smiles through it, eyes rimmed with red and body still shaking.

“Yeah. Maybe now, I do.”

Maybe, Tails thinks, he’s just overthinking everything again. Maybe, maybe, he really is a wonder. Maybe he really can take on anything.

They passed out on the couch that night, Sonic holding Tails just like he did when Tails was an even smaller kit.

And for the first time in a while, Tails felt that maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to have flaws.


End file.
